Breaking the Bones of Your Heart
by Kathey27
Summary: Meg and Castiel trying to find the rhythm of tomorrow. / Or, he should have known better than to say yes. AU.


**A/N: This came to me in A.P. US History class the other morning…I hope it's as good as it seemed at the time I was scribbling it out.**

**Disclaimer: Bite me.**

**xxxxxx**

"This is the essence of love and failure."

- Richard Siken, _You Are Jeff_: verse 13**  
**

**xxxxxx**

**breaking the bones of your heart:**

i.

The first time Castiel meets Meg he hates her. Hates her too bright eyes (stolen) and her husky words (lies) and her warm touch (dirty).

She's looking at him with a mix of hatred and desire and it confuses him so, how he can want to take her apart at the seams then put her back together again. But then he remembers Ruby. Beautiful, powerful, too good for black eyes Ruby. Ruby with poison in her veins but love in her tattered, bloody ghost of a soul and Ruby with the soft hands and consoling words.

But no. That's _wrong_.

Because Ruby is good and pure and came out right. Meg is bad and cruel and came out _wrong_. (Or Ruby came wrong and Meg right, depending on how you want this all to end).

Meg deserves the hated and the pain and all that's to came her way.

But these aren't the thoughts enveloping the angel's brain when he's advancing towards her. The regions of his borrowed mind scream something almost intangible, blasphemous even. He hushes Jimmy and puts him back to sleep.

…

After Jo and Ellen's deaths, the screams dumb down to whispers.

ii.

Meg doesn't know what it is about Wings but…there's something in those too blue eyes…something that makes her want to take him apart and crawl inside.

You see, here is Meg's problem, her fatal flaw. She likes pretty things. She likes to get her hands on them and bruises them and take them and make them _mine_. This is why she is black smoke, this is why she doesn't usually allow herself pretty things (_can't_ allow herself pretty things).

And Castiel? Wings? He's damn near the prettiest thing she's ever laid eyes on since her days as a prostitute in Poland (_shh_, don't tell the masses, not everyone forgets).

He's so, so pretty and so, so utterly lost and broken. Pretty and broken, her two favorite things. And this is why she can't stay.

She can't stay because Castiel is so _pretty_ and vulnerable and if she reaches out _just a little bit_, he'll be _mine_.

She could take such good care of him and mold him into something brilliant and bloody and together they'll –

See? _This_ is why she can't have nice things.

(She burns them to their core).

iii.

Castiel doesn't know what it'll take to dig her out of his skin.

It's been months, _months_ since they last saw each other and now she's here fucking them over yet again – and for Crowley of all things – and they're letting her and this is _not_ okay. He remembers what it was like falling for Ruby. It was painful and it burned and it shattered him and in the end she chose Dean (_that's who she'll always pick; always_).

And Meg is evil and wrong and bad and has the cruelest little smirk but there are time when he finds himself wondering _what if i touched her there_.

He cleanses these thoughts away by pressing her to a dirty wall and giving away his very first kiss.

iv.

She tries to shovel down the want with violence.

She shoves Wings into things and when he pushes her through a door, she pushes him through a wall.

Okay, she gets she ditched them and left them to rot but Crowley had died and that was that. No reason to stay. (No other reason to ever see him again).

Except now the want has flared up viciously and _oh god touch me there._

He's gazing at her with hesitation and desperation and _is this what humanity feels like?_

"Clarence I'm flattered, if I'd known you wanted it this bad, I would have left the body behind for you to play with." The words slip from her mouth before she can stop them and his face hardens and yeah_, can't have nice things._

"Don't mistake my letting you live for tolerance."

She bites his hand in retaliation.

He pins her to the ground, bloody hand choking her down.

v.

He doesn't want to be this...this thing that relies on violence and bare glimpses and harsh words.

He doesn't want to fight down the desire and hate and _more more MORE._

He wasn't built for this, for humanity. He was made to be a soldier; strong and steady and fixed.

He isn't meant for scorching glances and brushed fingertips and concealed lies mixed in with half-truths.

(But this is what he has).

vi.

Meg gives up fighting it when she catches Castiel (she isn't stalking. she _isn't_) leaning against a decayed wall, taking in deep breaths and looking like a weight is about to collapse onto his shoulders. Like Atlas.

She wonders if she should tell him to shrug.

vii.

She goes to him with a proposition. (_so wings, how about you let me in on your little deal with crowley and we'll see whether or not we can get you out of this fine mess_).

He says yes after only a two-minute hesitation mark. (_…don't tell ruby_).

Castiel fell in love with Ruby exactly three months after meeting her.

Castiel realized he couldn't keep Ruby ten months into knowing her.

Castiel knew he would have to give up Ruby sixteen months into loving her.

Castiel accepted he wasn't allowed to go to Ruby for help after watching her and Dean struggle to swim after Sam's death.

These are all the reasons he says yes.

(He should have known better than to say yes).

viii.

Castiel stops a fellow angel from burning out the tattered, ghostly remains of her humanity.

She gazes up at him from the floor, wipes the blood out of her mouth and smirks, black eyes gleaming and teeth red with blood that is yet isn't hers.

She looks so much like Ruby (_beautiful perfect oh dear god – _) that he has to leave or risk breaking.

ix.

Meg keeps her hands clasped in his and tugs hard, tugs until they're both hidden safely behind the crates, away from the eyes of one of Crowley's latest goons and _oh god when did this become my life?_

She breathes against his neck, smirks and says: "i'm really starting to appreciate our time together clarence, what do you say we make this a regular thing?" It's spoken hushed and slowly and she makes sure to lean in _just that much_.

Before Castiel can answer, can shove her away, she's pressing cold lips to his because Crowley's men are getting closer and she's practically shoving her tongue down his throat in an attempt to mask the musky scent of Grace and power. She runs her hands everywhere and tugs at his hair and spreads her mark anywhere she can reach, desperate to keep him, to make him stay (make him _mine_).

When it's clear he slowly pries his lips from hers, foreheads plastered together. Their breaths mingle together and if she tilts forward an inch, _perfection._

He disappears and they don't talk for a week.

x.

They end up tumbling around in sheets a month later.

And isn't this just so incredibly fucked up? It's okay, you can say it. (_wouldn't you die to know the things they whisper in the dark?_)

It's a mess of hands and nails and blood and black eyes and slick skin and breathless enochian and _of course it was going to come to this_.

He wakes up to cold sheets.

xi.

("Come on Wings, we both know how this ends.")

xii.

He shoves her against brick walls and swallows her moans through a heated, _not mine never mine, _mouth and takes all that she's willing to give up to him.

It's harsh and fast and brutal and slightly messy and _dear god the things she can do with her mouth_.

xiii.

She rakes her fingers across his scalp, breathes hot onto his neck, murmurs:

"you're so pretty clarence".

xiv.

He traces long lost ancient words into the flesh of her skin and kisses a trail up to her collarbone. He sucks at the bone and flesh there and leaves his mark everywhere he can.

"Getting possessive Wings?" Before he can answer he's being flipped and then he's suddenly looking up into onyx eyes and "that's my thing sweetcheeks".

xv.

Ruby grabs hold of her hand and flashes misty black eyes. "What the hell are you doing to _my_ Castiel?"

She flashes back cold and calculated black eyes. "Whatever the hell I want."

xvi.

Castiel can feel Meg creeping her way into his borrowed flesh. Can feel her words bouncing around in his skull, wrapping themselves tight into the regions of his conscious and making a home for themselves there.

And now it's no longer blonde hair and pale eyes he dreams of but reddish brown hair and smoldering eyes. It's no longer soft, tender hands he imagines but hard, callous hands scraping against his skin.

(He's so utterly and royally screwed).

xvii.

"You can still back down now Clarence, no need to go this far. No need to crack open daddy's jail house."

"I'm doing this for them…for – " _you_.

"Oh Castiel." The name tastes bitter on her tongue.

xviii.

She tries not to read into it when he holds her hand in his and plays with it, runs his fingers across every line and tries to whisper secrets into her hair.

She holds him down and listens to the enochian that ties her blood into spirals and beats down the warmth and _humanity_ encasing her.

xix.

Castiel lets Ruby fix his trench coat and run her soft hands over his face.

"I need you to promise me you'll be careful. With her, this…whatever it is you're doing."

"Ruby – "

Onyx locks on blue. "Don't let her reel you in."

xx.

Meg stops pushing away the warmth the day Castiel heals her practically ripped apart arm with his Grace.

She feels hot flames envelope her body followed by a deep soothing warmth and although a part of her, the part that Hell had molded, flinches away at all of this, the small part that'd clung on during Hell relishes it all.

xxi.

"…Castiel."

"Yes?"

"Cas."

"…yes?"

"Casie."

Sigh. "Meg – "

"Castiel."

Her final, almost broken tone has him pressing her body into his and kissing away the tremors.

xxii.

It ends bloody.

(How else was it supposed to?)

He's suddenly god and has no time for trivial matters. No time for her. He has to punish the wicked and heal the damned and testify to the righteous.

There's no room for warm hands and soft grins and hard, desperate embraces and _shh wings right there just like that_.

He shoves her against one more wall and grins murder into her tainted skin, "i am letting you live because i once…cared for you".

She presses a bloody kiss to his jawline and clings on, "baby, you think i'm running from you? _i'm _the big bad wolf".

xxiii.

The only people there when Castiel crash lands to the bottom are Meg and Ruby.

Ruby holds him close and cries and shouts and _no no no not like this you can't leave me like this please castiel._

Meg plants a faint kiss on his temple and grimaces and _come castiel you're better than this we're better than this you don't get to fucking leave me now._

They watch together as he dissolves into nothing.

xxiv.

Meg reverts to violence. She pulls herself away from Ruby and those cursed Winchesters and starts to bleed demons.

She strings them up and cuts into them and runs from Crowley and tries to ignore the fact that the bodies she's cutting into belong to somebody else. (belong to somebody's castiel).

xxv.

She starts to have nightmares of things other than Hell and blood and grief and dear god she can't close her eyes without seeing him drowning and disappearing forever.

She cuts into more demons and ignores Ruby.

xxvi.

(And she feels her chest tighten and threaten to cave in and if that isn't just the funniest thing, a demon mourning an angel).

xxvii.

When she gets word that he's found, that he's alive and whole, she has to blink away the tears.

xxviii.

Since Castiel no longer remembers, she tries to help him remember. She presses him into the hospital wall and smirks and "for good luck" and crushes her lips to his.

He remembers nothing and ends up losing himself along the way.

xxix.

Meg stays with Castiel because no one else will.

Sam is too busy being broken and guilty.

Dean is too busy drowning himself in liquor and denial.

Ruby is too busy trying to decide whom to stay with.

She's all that's left.

xxx.

She gets used to watching his sleeping form again like no time at all had passed. Like she hadn't had nightmares for months on him being consumed alive by the Leviathan.

The day he wakes up, she smiles for the first time in weeks.

xxxi.

It all goes to Hell when they show up.

She likes this new Castiel. He's all soft words and touch and poetry (she does like it, whatever) and when they kiss, when they fuck, his eyes glow like never before.

This stops slightly when Ruby squeezes her way back in.

xxxii.

"Don't be afraid Meg, I love you best." His eyes cloud over and his grin is happy and it's all she can do not to burst into tears and break someone.

xxxiii.

Meg sticks around to protect this new, poetic him because Ruby is too busy keeping her husband afloat.

xxxiv.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this." This is whispered into his chest at four in the morning just before the dust settles.

"It's okay."

She shushes his lies with cold lips.

xxxv.

When the time comes she latches onto his ankle and gets sucked into daddy's jail house with them.

xxxvi.

Castiel, new, returned, real Castiel holds her to him and ignores Dean's hard gaze as they protect each other against the monsters.

They're all that's left.

xxxvii.

They fight and they bleed and they kill and oh god, she'd nearly forgotten how good it feels to rip somebody apart with him.

xxxviii.

Dean and her start to notice how weak he is and they hold the angel up together and she knows what she has to do.

xxxix.

Time slips away and it's survive, survive, _survive_ and finally a way out. (she can be very persuasive as she bleeds you out).

xl.

She shows Dean the spell in the dead of the night as Castiel sleeps. They have the first shift and it's cold and she needs to do this now because she won't be able to do it in the daylight, with blue eyes boring into hers.

"…this is a two person spell."

"I know."

"…Meg, you know this is going to – "

She shushes the Winchester. "Keep him safe." _Don't tell him until after._

xli.

Meg leans onto his chest and traces her fingertips into his ribs. "I can't keep you."

"Why not?"

"…you're pretty. And I can't have nice things." She says this with a shake of the head and glossy eyes and fuck Purgatory for making her so weak and fragile, for making her so willing to die for anyone other than no one. (When did this become her?)

He traces her ribs.

xlii.

She doesn't hold it against him when she's left behind.

(She was the one to let go).

**xxxxxx**

"It's all a bit tragic, really, isn't it?"

- Peter Pan, _Smee_**  
**

**xxxxxx**


End file.
